When I was younger I argued
vehemently that art and painting were not talent but as someone said,
“talent is one per-cent inspiration and 99% perspiration.”

As I barrel on down the
road going toward 70 (years not miles per hour) my thinking has changed.
Whatever a parent puts into a child at an early age must dictate how well
they are able to see the details needed for putting them on canvas.

Dad was always pointing out
the “Lord’s work,” in one way or another. He pointed out the colors in a
sunset, the shadows, or veins and details in leaves. Mother was always
saying, “Look! Look!” at something or another as we speeded by it while in
the car. I think she was actually only trying to keep us entertained. Her
dedication to whatever project at hand had us in the car a lot,
consequently, “seeing” while we traveled the long miles from the ranch
lands.

During this lesson today
with my fledgling students, who are close to my age, it is my
concentration to work at all costs to get the student out of the dominant
right brain so as to let his creative left brain paint
what is really there. The dominant right brain keeps saying, “No! no! Let
me do this, I know how” and then proceeds to draw a flower with a center
and petals all nicely arranged around of exact same shape and size. To
bring a student to a place where the flower does NOT have petals all of
the same shape and size sounds easy, but for the person who has allowed
the right brain to work its control, believe me, is not easy. I use music,
many small breaks, while they look at the flower and handle it to exercise
the tactile while constant pointing out of the differences in size and
shapes of petals. The work is partially finished and looks fairly well
executed. I feel I have accomplished something, that is, until the next
week when the the canvas comes back. They have “worked” on it at home and
the result s are a nice little flower that has a button in the center and
petals exactly alike all neatly arranged around it.

When I had plenty of time,
it was less frustrating. Today I am only inches away from the place when
the paint will again become toxic to me and I will have to stop. This
makes me wish to push on at a continuous pace and doesn’t let me pause
long enough to realize the ladies have trials of such great heaviness that
even these few moments of taking their minds away from that is of great
value, and not just dark and light, here.
http://www.drawspace.com/lessons/lesson.php?id=j01

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